


…little boats that sail toward those isles …

by timberwolfoz



Series: Chenevertone [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timberwolfoz/pseuds/timberwolfoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of a difficult case brings new revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	…little boats that sail toward those isles …

"That – " spat Lewis, as they eyed the accident scene they'd been called to. "As if he hasn't done enough, now he's definitely killed two more people and left their kiddies orphans." He shot Hathaway a sideways look. _"You_ might have to do the questioning, because right now all I want to do is punch the bastard."

Hathaway confined himself to a nod, his face grim. _If you knew how my parents died, sir..._ he thought.

~~~~~

Seeing Hathaway's pale, tight-lipped demeanour, Lewis took him aside into an empty interview room. "Is there something I should know, Sergeant? And don't you tell me _no_ when the answer is yes."

Hathaway's eyes flashed with indignation and for a moment Lewis thought Hathaway was going to either storm out of the room or come as near as he'd ever done to hitting him, but then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Yes. I lost my parents in just about the same way."

"What, both of them? When you were a kiddie?"

A nod.

"And all this is bringing it all back, I'll bet."

Another firm nod.

"You poor lad," said Lewis with a sigh, resting his hand on Hathaway's shoulder and squeezing gently, half expecting it to be thrown off as he'd once thrown off Morse's hand when he'd tried to offer comfort. Instead Hathaway sighed, tipping his head back.

"I keep telling myself," he said, his voice strained, "that if I can remain professional, we can _nail_ this bastard."

"I keep telling myself the same thing," said Lewis. He released Hathaway's shoulder with a final pat. "At least tell me they got the bastard who did it?"

"Oh yeah, that was never in question. We were spared what you went through, sir. But after a point – "

"Aye, nothing helps," said Lewis. He shot Hathaway a sharp look. "Will you be OK, questioning him?" he asked.

"Will you?" retorted Hathaway.

"Good point." He gave Hathaway a wry smile. "We'll just have to watch over each other, eh?"

~~~~~

"Ewan Michael Daniels, I arrest you for murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

~~~~~

"You're not sleeping?" asked Lewis, casting an experienced eye over Hathaway's countenance.

Hathaway grimaced, making a so-so gesture. "Not very well."

"You should come over to mine. At least there'd be someone there when the nightmares hit."

"Your couch would cripple me, sir. At least I know I can sleep on my one."

"And let me guess, you're sleeping on your couch because you're trying to avoid the nightmares?"

A silent, tight-lipped nod was his only answer.

Lewis sighed. "We'd better wrap up this case or we'll end up being nervous wrecks. At least it's all over bar the shouting."

"True enough," said Hathaway with a wry smile, "but given we're after him on the original murder plus the couple he killed in the car crash and a few others along the way, that's a lot of shouting."

Lewis's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "That's one way of putting it."

~~~~

"Well, thank God that's over," said Lewis, flopping backwards on the couch with a groan. "God, what a case."

"How many traffic fatalities are there in or around Oxford, anyway?" queried Hathaway, flopping down beside him and sloshing wine into their glasses with more haste than care.

"Too bloody many. I'm sure you could find yourself the exact figure if you really want to know."

"I'll pass, thanks all the same," said Hathaway, dropping his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.

"I don't blame you," said Lewis, reaching for his glass and taking a swig of wine. "How come you never told me about your parents before this? It's not an accusation," he said hurriedly as Hathaway rolled his head sideways and gave him a wounded look. 

Hathaway rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. "It seems like a cliché, but was a long time ago," he said. He reached for his own glass, taking a long swig. "It's… you can't live every moment of every day thinking _my parents are dead._ In the end, you just… put it away," he said, staring owlishly at the red wine in the glass. 

"Times I wish I could," said Lewis, staring moodily into his own glass.

"That's different. You expect to lose your parents at some stage. You don't expect to lose your wife."

"But not at the age you lost yours."

"Well, yeah," said Hathaway, taking another long drink of his wine. "But at least they found out who did it and he was duly tried and convicted. I honestly thought I'd dealt with it a long time ago."

"And then you see something like it happen and it brings it all back," said Lewis reflectively. "Plus, it involves kiddies. None of us deal well with a case that involves kiddies." He took a long drink of his wine by way of a full stop.

"At least they've got their family. Like I did," said Hathaway. "It's not the same, but it's a help." His frown belied his words, even as he finished off his glass.

"Aye, but nothing makes up for losing your parents," said Lewis reflectively, reaching for the bottle and refilling their glasses. "Even if they live to a decent old age, it's still a jolt. When they're younger... I can't imagine what that must be like."

Hathaway grimaced. "And yet four, five generations back it wasn't unusual to lose one parent, and certainly not unknown to lose both. Back then, I would have been normal, and not an _oddity."_ The last was said with a bitter twist that made Lewis give him an anxious look, the more so when Hathaway drunk the rest of the glass down in one go and stood up. 

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going home to get ratted."

"Like hell you are. You're staying right here."

"Sir, I'm not fit company like this. And don't expect me to handle this without a serious amount of alcohol."

"I wasn't suggesting that you did," said Lewis with spurious patience. "I was suggesting you stay and keep me company. Besides, you're not fit to drive, or even to walk."

"What, you're planning on getting ratted as well?"

"You bet I am," said Lewis, waving the bottle invitingly. "Sit down, man."

Hathaway obligingly flopped down. "Don't mind if I do."

Lewis refilled his glass. "Drink up, then, lad."

"Hang on… have we got enough in? Because if we need to get any more, we need to go now."

"I've got five bottles, I think that should do! Mind you, you've probably got posher stuff at yours."

"I bet I don't," retorted Hathaway, getting to his feet to examine Lewis's wine stas h. "And anyway, you don't get drunk on the good stuff. Unless you're young and stupid."

"And in Daddy's wine cellar?" retorted Lewis, cringing as he realised what he'd said.

"Not ours, thank heavens – my grandmother would have hung me out to dry," Hathaway assured him. He scooped up another bottle and went back, saying, "You've got ale in and there's other stuff, but – "

"We don't want to mix it or we'll feel like hell tomorrow," said Lewis. "Thank God it's the weekend."

Hathaway picked up his glass and saluted Lewis with it, before draining off half the contents.

With a shake of his head, Lewis followed suit.

~~~~~~

"So our Lyn thinks I'm working too hard," said Lewis some time later, slumped against Hathaway, his voice slightly thick with alcohol. "Thinks I should think about retiring early, moving up closer to her."

"' N what do you think?" asked Hathaway, likewise propped against Lewis, his voice far more slurred than Lewis's.

"Ahhh," said Lewis, shaking his head. "I miss her an' all, but… she's a grown lass, isn't she? She doesn't need me breathing down her neck while she's setting up with this new bloke! I had enough of that with Val's bloody mother."

"New bloke, wha… what happened to whassisface?" Hathaway held up a hand with spurious dignity. "Sorry… sorry, none of my business."

"Eh, she never told me much anyway. Just that she felt like she was mothering him half the time… or more than half. Anyway this new bloke, Pete, seems nice enough."

"But does she want you to move?" asked Hathaway.

Lewis screwed up his face in thought. "I don't know… I don't know if she's feeling a bit lonely after breaking up with Tim after she went to Manchester to be with him – even with this new bloke around – or if she thinks I'm lonely and want to get away from Oxford."

"And do you?"

Lewis let out an exasperated breath. "It's… Oxford's me home, in a way, now. Don't quite fit in with this posh lot, but I've been here since they were nippers. Yeah, I get a bit lonely, but I'd get lonely anywhere."

"But… would you have any more chance…"

"Ah, who'd be interested in me? Washed up old cop, kids scattered to the ends of the earth, living in a rented flat on – "

It was impossible to tell who was more surprised in the next moment as Hathaway shifted and covered Lewis's lips with his own… Lewis, or Hathaway himself.

Lewis automatically returned the kiss for perhaps a few seconds longer than he should have, then paused… but just before Hathaway was about to tear himself away, mumbling clumsy drunken apologies, run out of the flat back to his own place, leave a note to himself to request a transfer before drinking himself into a total stupor with his own stash of wine, Lewis shifted again, taking control of the kiss as his hand came up to cup the back of Hathaway's head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as Hathaway lifted his hand up to rest carefully, tentatively on Lewis's shoulder. Lewis smiled, sliding his fingers into Hathaway's cropped locks, his fingers stroking the fine strands. 

As Lewis instinctively pressed Hathaway backwards, Hathaway shifted, settling half against the back, half against the arm of the couch, his legs falling apart, feeling the solid weight of Lewis settling against him, the press of Lewis's belly against his torso, one long, surprisingly lean leg against his own, the hard length of Lewis's erection burning against his thigh.

Hathaway moaned, his leg coming up to cradle Lewis between his thighs, making a faint murmur of protest as Lewis raised his head slightly, pressing a finger to his lips, then stroking it over his cheek. "Hang on, Jim… you're drunk, you sure about this?"

"I'm not that drunk. Not drunk enough that I don't know what I'm doing."

"But are you _sure."_

Hathaway gave him an exasperated look. "For God's sakes, _sir,_ I did everything short of strip off and sit on your lap to tell you I was interested… and two more glasses of wine and I might just have."

Lewis was looking at him incredulously. "You _what?"_

"Oh come on, it was obvious."

"Not to the rest of us mortals."

Hathaway gave an amused snort. "And talking of _sure,_ are you?"

Lewis gave him a long, assessing look, one eyebrow raised. "You know," he said, one eyebrow raised, "I do believe I am."

_"Really?"_ said Hathaway, with the incredulous look of someone who's got exactly what they wanted for their birthday .

"Oh yeah," said Lewis, pulling him up into a fierce embrace.

Hathaway gave a yelp of protest, even as his arms tightened around Lewis. "Sir – mind your back! – Sorry," he said as Lewis pulled back slightly and gave him an exasperated look. "But do you really want a trip to A&E _now?"_

"My back's fine, that mattress has done it a power of good, as have those exercises," retorted Lewis, his hands automatically stroking over Hathaway's back. "But you've got a point… I'm too old for my first time with you to be on this couch." He got to his feet, pulling Hathaway after him and said, "And stop calling me _sir,_ I'm not into all that!"

"No? Damn," quipped Hathaway, earning himself an exasperated look and a kiss by way of reply. "So what should I call you?" he asked once they came up for air.

"Why not 'Robbie' like everyone else? – No?" he continued, as Hathaway pulled a face.

"Just seems wrong," said the younger man.

"Well, what, then?"

"'Rob'?" suggested Hathaway.

"Aye, I can live with that."

Hathaway bent his head and took Lewis's mouth in a deep kiss. "And I can see – or hear – myself screaming it when I've got my legs wrapped around you ."

Lewis inhaled sharply, eyes widening. "Bloody hell," he said, dragging Hathaway down the hall to his bedroom.

~~~~~

Lewis stirred and opened his eyes, squinting in the light from the one bedside lamp.... he remembered now ... that they'd switched on. Before.

And yes, there he was. Hathaway – Jim – stretched out beside him, face serene in sleep, a faint smile curving his lips, one arm resting limply over Lewis's hip.

Lewis shook his head in amazement, even as he felt an upswell of gratitude – and yes, astonishment – at the gift that had practically landed in his arms before he'd been aware he'd even wanted it. Him.

_God, he's so young,_ he thought. _What the hell am I thinking?_

But another part of his mind insisted that Hathaway, for all his youthful age and appearance – at least in vulnerable moments, like deep in sleep – was not young emotionally, and probably never had been.

_I suppose he's a mix, like most of us,_ mused Lewis, studying him in the dim light of the lamp. _Anyway, he knew what he wanted. And went after it – me. I've seen he's a passionate man underneath that blank-faced exterior, but I didn't know the half of it..._

Lewis shook his head mentally as he found himself both smiling reminiscently and blushing. Unable to resist touching any longer, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the soft skin of Hathaway's back. 

Hathaway stirred with a snuffle, stretching and turning his face against Lewis's shoulder, making an annoyed sound at the light shining in his eyes – then stilling as sense and memory kicked in, lifting his head from Lewis's shoulder to meet his eyes, his face carefully expressionless but his eyes wide and vulnerable.

Lewis smiled fondly at him. "Hey," he said, his thumb brushing along the line of Hathaway's spine.

"Hey," said Hathaway in return. "We... oh, wow."

"'Oh, wow,' is right," said Lewis, turning his head to brush his lips over Hathaway's, then, as Hathaway's lips parted under his, deepening the kiss, running his tongue over Hathaway's lower lip before plunging inside, his tongue moving over Hathaway's with practised skill and enthusiasm. Hathaway moaned deep in his throat, his hand tightening on the curve of Lewis's buttock, his lips twitching in a half-smile against Lewis's as Lewis pressed himself back into Hathaway's hand.

"What?" asked Lewis, amused.

"Aside from the fact that you're enjoying what I'm doing to you – "

"Which you have ample evidence of," put in Lewis.

"I know, you were the one wiping the _ample evidence_ off," replied Hathaway. "I was just thinking why some people I know swear by older men."

"You mean for – ?" Lewis trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

"'Rumpy-pumpy', yeah."

"I wish I'd never used that expression," muttered Lewis to himself. He smiled against Hathaway's lips as Hathaway chuckled and reached up to kiss him again, giving into temptation and nipping the full bottom lip.

"I repeat – _wow,"_ said Hathaway as their lips parted.

"Mmm... so you do want an old fart like me," said Lewis, looking down and hoping he sounded complacent, rather than anxious.

Hathaway gave him an exasperated look. "Firstly, anyone who can shag like you did cannot call themselves old, even if they're about to get a telegram from the Queen. Secondly, still happy to do that lap thing."

Lewis shook his head slowly. "Still can't believe I didn't notice."

Hathaway gave him a look of mixed fondness and exasperation. "Thirdly, available evidence would indicate…" He trailed off, pressing against Lewis meaningfully.

"Oh, aye?" said Lewis, giving way to a playful impulse and dropping his head to nip at Hathaway's neck, right at the junction of his shoulder. Hathaway gasped, his other hand coming up to wrap around Lewis's head. 

"'Aye'... oh God," moaned Hathaway as Lewis kissed back up his neck and, rolling him on his back, kissed him deeply and passionately. "I hate to say it, but watch the marks. We've got to go in tomorrow, remember."

"You should talk, Mr 'but I've got strong white teeth,'" retorted Lewis, deliberately overlooking Hathaway's puzzled look as he failed to get the reference. "Anyway, old trick. Toothpaste."

"What – oh, I suppose it bleaches it out. Unless you want to make a point of being minty fresh?"

"Bleaches and conceals. Better than make-up," said Lewis, merely smiling when Hathaway raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Should I check your medicine cupboard for Clarins?" retorted Hathaway. "Or is that the face care stuff?"

"How should I know?" said Lewis.

"Well, if you mentioned _make-up,"_ said Hathaway mischievously.

"Let's just say it wasn't mine," replied Lewis, leaning forward to nip at Hathaway's lip again, making him gasp sharply. Lewis took Hathaway's mouth in a deeper kiss, running his hand down from between Hathaway's shoulder blades to the small of his back, making him shudder, his breath gusting into Lewis's mouth, Lewis's breath catching before he pressed Hathaway into the mattress, his hand stroking over Hathaway's short-cropped hair, tilting his head back as he ravished his mouth.

"If this is what you're like when you're new to it," Hathaway said, somewhat shakily, once Lewis finally let him up for air, "I'm gonna have to go on vitamins once you get a bit more practice."

"I take it that's a compliment," said Lewis, the amusement in his eyes belying the blandness of his tone.

"It's a compliment," responded Hathaway in like fashion, smirking up at Lewis, then smiling in astonished delight when Lewis ducked his head and nudged the tip of his nose with his own.

"You been around cats?" he asked, one hand idly stroking over Lewis's hip, his other hand resting on the nape of Lewis's neck.

"Not since I was a lad," Lewis explained, looking puzzled. "Why?"

"That's a very cat-like gesture," said Hathaway, grinning suddenly as a thought occurred to him.

"If you call me a _tiger_ or anything like that, I may hurl," said Lewis, his thumb stroking a pattern on the small of Hathaway's back.

"If you object to 'tiger', will you object to 'well, make me stop thinking'?" enquired Hathaway.

Lewis gave him an exasperated look. "Yes," he retorted, pushing Hathaway over onto his back and covering his mouth with his own.

They didn't stop snickering for about a minute, but found that laughing and kissing was quite, quite possible.

They were still shaking with silent laughter when they came up for air, Lewis resting his forehead on Hathaway's, both of them grinning like idiots.

"You look happy," said Lewis.

"That's because I am," said Hathaway. "At the risk of sounding like a total sap, I can't remember when I was this happy."

"Ahh, pet, that's no good," said Lewis, his forehead creasing in a frown.

"What?" said Hathaway incredulously.

"I mean that you 'can't remember'. Mind you, it's a worry that it's taken an old, broken down cop – "

"Oi," said Hathaway sternly, poking him in the ribs with one long forefinger. "Stop insulting my lover."

He'd meant to be half facetious and wholly in earnest, but at the word 'lover', both of them blinked, feeling totally stunned.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" said Lewis.

Hathaway nodded solemnly. "You still want to carry on, don't you?" he said solemnly. "Now we're both sober?"

"I wouldn't be lying here all tangled up with you naked if I didn't," retorted Lewis.

"And very nice it is," said Hathaway, stretching languidly against Lewis, one hand stroking down his side.

"Mmmm," said Lewis. "I take it from that you want to keep on." His tone indicated he was in no doubt whatsoever, though.

Hathaway smirked up at him. "Come down here," he said, drawing Lewis's head down to his, "and I'll show you how much."

"We _will_ have to go onto vitamins," said Lewis, just before their lips met in a fervid kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I have substantially revised this fic, after putting aside the series for a couple of years. I wrote an earlier version of part of this as my Yuletide fic, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/36419). Many thanks to all those who commented! The title is from Pablo Neruda's poem If You Forget Me, which can be found [here](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-you-forget-me/).  
> Acknowledgements: Many thanks to mcicioni for the beta on the original version and sarehkert on the revised version.


End file.
